


Seasons of love

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, encounters over the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: When Bernie and Serena first meet, at a university ball, sparks fly. But how long will it take for the stars to align for them?
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 33
Kudos: 77
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2019





	1. Spring 1992

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Guinan333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guinan333/gifts).



> Written for Berena Secret Santa 2019. Prompt 'Grow old along with me'

The medics’ spring ball is crowded, noisy and drunken – much like most of their other events, it has to be said. Serena winds her way through the crowd, a drink in each hand raised high to avoid as many bumps as possible.

“You’ve been ages,” Sian says with a pout when Serena finally reaches the little standing table they’ve claimed as their own.

“You get the drinks next time,” Serena retorts as she puts the glasses carefully on the table.

Sian takes a long gulp, scanning the crowded room as she does so. “Oooh,” she says, with a nod, “What do you think of that one?”

Serena glances at the boy in question and shrugs. “Alright, I suppose?”

Sian grins. “Good enough for me. What?” she says as Serena sighs, “You know I only came with you to pull some hot medics. Oh, tell you what, look over there. Is that the mysterious blonde you were telling me about?”

Serena turns to look. It _is_ the mysterious blonde, the one that Serena has had half an eye on all year, but never yet managed to talk to. She’s got a long name. Something fancy. Berenice, that’s it. She’s wearing a neatly tailored suit that shows off her trim figure and accentuates her long legs. Serena watches her fidget in her bag and pull out a pack of fags, head for the door to the garden.

In Serena’s moment of distraction, as she gazes at her, Sian slips away. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s Sian ditching her _again_ , but Serena finds herself following Berenice.

It’s quieter in the garden. There are fairy lights strung up and it’s pretty but cold – almost everybody is staying inside. Berenice is sitting in a wooden pagoda, twirling a cigarette between her fingers.

“They’re bad for you, you know,” Serena says and Berenice looks up with a startled laugh.

“I know,” she says with a shrug, “But I can’t manage to give up. Want one?” 

She proffers her packet and Serena slides onto the seat next to her. “Okay.”

“Serena, right?” Berenice says as she flicks her lighter for Serena.

“I – yes.” Berenice has noticed her, and Serena’s fingers tremble slightly, her cigarette wavering over the flame of the lighter. “You’re Berenice.”

“Bernie. I prefer Bernie.”

Serena’s finally got the cigarette alight, takes a drag, splutters a little. “Suits you.” It does, much better than Berenice.

Bernie grins. “First time?” she nods at the fag.

“Not had one for a while,” Serena admits. 

For a moment there’s quiet, only the soft exhalation of smoke. They’re sitting so close together and Serena feels the draw, the same pull that’s kept her watching Bernie all year.

“What brings you out here then?” Bernie asks eventually, “If it isn’t an unhealthy addiction?” There’s a glitter in her eyes as she looks at Serena. 

“I was following you,” Serena admits after a moment.

“Any reason?” She’s teasing – challenging.

Serena raises an eyebrow. “Do I need one?”

Bernie shakes her head slightly. “What happened to your friend?”

“She’s off after some boy.”

“Nobody catch your eye?”

Serena takes a slow drag  and lets her g aze drift over Bernie. “Somebody did.” 

The cigarette is plucked from her finger s and Bernie throws it unceremoniously on the ground. “I was hoping that was the case,” she murmurs as she leans in closer.

Serena holds her breath as Bernie’s fringe tickles her forehead, as Bernie’s long nose brushes against her own.  Then soft lips touch hers briefly before Bernie pulls away. Dark eyes study her, questioning. Serena doesn’t bother with words, just pulls Bernie back in, winds her fingers into that messy, wonderful hair, catches her  arm to close the tiny gap left between them.

Bernie’s hands are on her back, burning through the thin fabric of her dress. Serena never wants this to stop.  Her hands  find a natural resting place – one in Bernie’s hair, one around her shoulders – and she lets herself relax into Bernie’s embrace, into the feel of lips caressing her own,  the  little noises that Bernie makes as they kiss.

Serena’s fingers find their way under Bernie’s jacket, under her shirt, to  stroke soft skin. Bernie sighs into her touch, pulls Serena closer. The feel of Bernie’s hands in her hair sends Serena reeling. She can barely think, only focus on the feel of Bernie under her fingers, the soft heat of her mouth, the  tug of gentle pressure in her hair.

And then the door to the garden bangs open and shouts of drunken laughter fill the air. Serena is suddenly cold as Bernie shoots away from her, eyes wide.  A wolf-whistle cuts through the laughter and Bernie stands up, clearly panicked.

“Bernie!” Serena says, reaching for her. 

But Bernie slips away from her. “I’m sorry, Serena. Sorry.” 

And she’s gone before Serena can say anything more.


	2. Summer 2012

Bernie knows that she should be spending her leave with her family, but Cam and Charlie are in summer clubs all week and Marcus – well. She’ll grab any excuse not to be around Marcus. So really, this conference couldn’t have come at a better time, and she’s lucky that she has enough of a reputation now that she can wangle herself a last minute ticket.

She checks into her hotel room then heads back downstairs; there are drinks before the opening speech and the dinner. The room is crowded and she fights her way to the bar. It’s too early for whiskey so she settles for a glass of white before turning round to survey the room. She’s not expecting to see anybody she knows but across the room she spies a flash of dark hair and her stomach jumps, as it always does – although it never is  the person she’d like it to be. But then she hears a laugh above the dull chatter and – perhaps it is her.

Drink in hand, she edges her way through the crowd. There she is. She looks just like she used to, eyes flashing with laughter, kissable lips stained red. And then Serena looks her way and stops, freezes completely as she stares.  Bernie  comes to a halt too and the room fades away and it’s just the two of them, staring at each other, across two decades.

Serena moves first. “Bernie.” Her eyes trace all over her, looking at her, knowing her in a way that Marcus never has. “I heard you were in Afghanistan.”

“I am,” Bernie’s voice is hoarse. She tries again. “I’m on leave. You?”

“Consultant at Holby City. I’m divorced,” she offers, out of nowhere.

“Good,” springs forth unbidden from Bernie’s lips, “Edward was awful.” She’d run into him on occasion, never managed to understand how Serena had married him.

Serena laughs. “I’m not arguing with you. You?”

Bernie shakes her head. She can’t delve into the complexities of her failing marriage right now, not with Serena stood in front of her, looking like that. Looking at _her_ like that. 

There’s a quiet corner in the lobby, out of sight of everybody, and Bernie kisses Serena there. Kisses her like she’s dying of thirst and Serena is an oasis.

“Is this alright?” she murmurs as they separate for breath, heads pressed together.

“I _have_ kissed a woman before,” Serena says and Bernie laughs.

“Just the one?” she asks, jokingly.

“Just the one,” Serena confirms, her thumb caressing Bernie’s cheek, “Just you.”

“ _Oh_.” Serena’s hand finds her hair and it feels just like Bernie remembers in her dreams. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” Serena pulls her in close again. 

“I suppose not,” Bernie whispers against her lips.

They miss the speech, slip into their seats, on separate tables, just in time for the start of the dinner.  Bernie can barely concentrate enough on her food to know what it is that she’s eating. The attempts of her dinner companions to make conversation fall on deaf ears. Her focus is entirely on Serena,  at the next table, as she laughs and flirts and her eyes slip constantly to Bernie.

Serena’s pull is powerful. The second that she’s able, she leaves the table, meets Serena half way.

“Bernie.” Serena scans her face. “It’s – just,” her voice is a whisper.

Bernie catches her hand and raises it to her lips. “I know,” she says, “Come with me.”

She leads Serena away from the noise of the dinner, up the quiet stairs to her room. She’s been dreaming of this ever since their kiss when they were students. The kiss that she’s ended in a hundred different ways in her dreams, converting the reality of an abrupt interruption by wolf-whistling idiots  and her subsequent flight into a fairytale ending. Now, she might get a few moments of the fairytale, if not the happy ever after.

As she closes her door behind Serena, and Serena looks at her full of want and eagerness, she knows that Serena’s room will go unoccupied this week.

Sometime later, they are in Bernie’s bed, sated. Happy. 

“You left. Before,” Bernie murmurs as she strokes Serena’s bare arm, explores the length of her fingers. “I looked for you, after – after I ran away. The next term.”

“Harvard,” Serena explains, and brushes a lock of Bernie’s hair out of her eyes. “By the time I came back you’d gone yourself. And you’re going this time, aren’t you? Back to Afghanistan.”

“We’ll just have to make the most of the conference,” Bernie says, leaning in close to kiss Serena again. She supposes she ought to feel guilty, but she doesn’t. Can’t, not when Serena is looking at her like that.


	3. Autumn 2016

It’s just another day in the office when Raf appears. “There’s an ambulance coming in, Hanssen wants me to go and meet it.”

Serena looks up, mildly curious. “Oh, why?”

“It’s an army medic. A big name. Seriously injured on duty.”

A chill seizes Serena. “Do you know who?”

“Major, um...” Raf casts around. “Major Wolfe.”

Serena sits bolt upright, fingers tight around her pen. “Do you know any details?”

“No, why. Do you know her?”

“We were at university together,” Serena says. _We were lovers_ goes unspoken. She often thinks of that conference, the three days she spent with Bernie, in her bed, getting to know her inside and out. She tries not to remember the pain and betrayal she felt when, on the last day, Bernie had confessed she was still married. But all of that is beside the point when Bernie is seriously injured and being flown here for treatment. “Will you let me know how she is?” She’s proud of how steady her voice is.

Raf eyes her again, clearly wanting to know more. “Yes,” he agrees. “I’d better get going.” He gestures to the door and Serena nods sharply.

“Off you go.”

Serena keeps herself busy, tries to keep her mind entirely on the job, until Raf reappears.

“Well?” she demands.

“They’ve taken her to Darwin. Heart and spine problems.” He takes a look at her pale face. “Do you want to take a break? I’ll hold the fort here.”

Bernie is lying very still in her bed when Serena pokes her head tentatively round the door.

“Serena!” Her face lights up.

Serena sits carefully next to her. “How are you?”

Bernie’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Oh, I’ve been better.” Then she bites her lip. “Serena, I – you should know. Marcus and I divorced. And I’m sorry. About before, about not telling you.”

Serena’s heart jumps. “I think we can draw a line under that.” She touches Bernie’s hand gently. “What’s the plan here?”

“Valentine and Self are going to operate together.” Bernie blinks. “Serena, what’s your opinion of them?”

Serena has never seen Bernie look as vulnerable as she does now, has never before seen the expression in her eyes which might almost be fear. “They’re both very good.”

“Okay.” Bernie sighs slightly.

“Would you like me to come by later?”

Bernie links their fingers together.“I’d love that.”

They sit for a moment, hand in hand. “Are you seeing anyone?” Bernie asks.

Serena squeezes her fingers, thinking of the nights when she knew the touch of them so intimately. “No. Are you?” She holds her breath for a moment, lets it out a _s_ Bernie shakes her head.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. That conference. You.”

“Good thoughts?”

Bernie laughs slightly. “I think you know they were. I’m glad I didn’t have to wait another two decades to meet you again.”

“A pity you had to arrive here like this.” Serena strokes her thumb over Bernie’s. “You know, um, nobody has quite measured up to you. That conference spoilt me.”

A delighted smile lights Bernie’s face. “Oh yes?”

“And I’ve missed you. Is that silly?”

“Not silly. When,” Bernie’s voice cracks a little. “When I’ve had the surgery and got through recovery, could I take you out for dinner?”

Serena watches the surgery through the window. Her shift is over but there’s no way she can leave the hospital, not with Bernie like this. Her fingers are white as they clutch her pendant tightly. She knows that Guy and Ollie are good at their jobs. Very good. But knowing that objectively isn’t any comfort when it is Bernie’s body on the operating table.

And then the monitor flatlines. “No,” she gasps. “No, no.”

“Serena?” She barely registers Raf behind her. “Serena, I’ve got you.” He holds her tight as they watch Oliver pump Bernie’s heart. Serena can’t breathe, there’s a thrumming in her ears. The only thing holding her upright is Raf.

And then finally, finally, the monitor resumes its steady beat, Serena sags into Raf’s arms, belatedly queries his presence.  
“What are you doing?”

“Looking for you,” he says with a smile. “You hadn’t left and I heard they were doing the surgery. Serena, what is she to you?”

“I think – I think she might be my future.”


	4. Winter 2019

The fire is roaring in the living room and Bernie and Serena are lying on the sofa, thick-socked feet entangled and two nearly-empty glasses of whiskey just within reach. In front of the fire, a temporary resident of the house woofs sleepily and thumps his tail.

“Kind of Charlotte to go on holiday and lend us her dog, wasn’t it,” Serena says sleepily.

Bernie huffs a laugh into her hair. “Have you come round to him then? You weren’t so enthusiastic earlier.”

“It was very early, and very cold.”

“What changed your mind?”

Serena snuggles into Bernie’s arms. “Well, the reward of whiskey and a fire and you.”

“You can have them without the walk,” Bernie points out, amused.

“But it feels like I’ve earned it, now.”

“Mmmm. Shall we go to bed?”

“Aye aye?” Serena raises an eyebrow and grins.

Bernie laughs. “Well, if you want. But I was thinking an early night might be in order before the hordes descend on us tomorrow.”

“You make it sound like they’re a mongol invasion.”

Bernie heaves herself off the sofa with a groan. “Oh, I’m stiff. Come on Campbell, time for bed.”

It’s Christmas Eve and the house is crowded, even without Charlotte. Cameron has brought Morven, Elinor has reclaimed her bedroom, Jason has Greta, and Raf, Fletch and the Fletchlings have come along too. Raf and Fletch have drawn the short straw of Christmas shifts so they’re dropping in and out and the kids are staying. As Bernie rearranges the kitchen to attempt to fit enough chairs around the table, she thinks that mongol hordes might be easier than to deal with.

The older children have taken the younger ones off for a good long walk, accompanied by Charlotte’s cockapoo and the house is blissfully quiet, for the moment at least.

“Everything okay?” Serena says as she appears in the kitchen, clutching a bottle of wine.

“Huh?” Bernie looks up, startled, then relaxes. “Yes, fine. Come here.” She plucks the bottle from Serena’s grasp, places it carefully on the table and pulls Serena in close. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.” Serena slips her fingers into Bernie’s hair and Bernie sighs at the touch.

“Sometimes I think about how close we came to not making it here.”

“But we did,” Serena reminds her, eyes gentle on hers.

Serena is leaning into her, body warm, red lips parted. Bernie swallows. “How long do you reckon until the children are back?”

Serena grins. “I’ll text Elinor and make sure they’re another half hour.”

Serena’s curves are irresistible. Bernie caresses them with her eyes, then her hands. “What about an hour?”

“I like your thinking,” Serena mumbles as their lips meet.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day pass in a whirl of glitter, noise and food. The excitement of the younger Fletchlings is infectious and even Elinor loses her slightly supercilious air and joins in the games. The massive pile of presents under the tree turns into a pile of discarded wrapping paper.

Eventually, late on Christmas Day, Raf arrives back from his shift, greets Fletch with a fond smile and a swift kiss, and packs the car up to take all the kids home. Jason and Greta head over to her parents’ and Cameron sighs resignedly and departs to Marcus’ house. Elinor disappears up to her room, phone in hand, to catch up with her friends and Snoopadoop the dog is asleep in the kitchen, dreaming of all the delights he’s managed to snaffle over the last two days.

A quiet settles over the house. Bernie looks round at the mess left behind, the indubitable evidence of two days well spent. “I suppose we’d better start tidying,” she says with a small sigh.

“One night of an untidy house won’t kill us,” Serena says comfortably, lowers herself onto the sofa and pats the seat beside her. “Come and join me.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Serena Campbell?” Bernie jokes as she slides into the seat, lowers her head onto Serena’s shoulder. It feels like coming home. They sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the peace and the soft crackle of the fire. “I got you something else,” Bernie says after a while.

“Another present?” Serena raises her eyebrows. “On top of the wine tour? You’re spoiling me.”

“It’s not – it’s not a present, really,” Bernie says. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” She digs into her pocket, palms a little sweaty. She’s not nervous. Excited, perhaps, is a better word.

Serena sits up, confused, expectant.

Bernie finds what she’s looking for, the tiny box she’s been carrying around all day. There’s a lump in her throat as she proffers it to Serena.

“Bernie -” Serena’s voice trails off.

“I know we’ve both done this before, but would you like to give it another try, with me?”

“Bernie.” Serena sounds dazed, her eyes flicking between the sparkling ring and Bernie’s face. “Oh, Bernie. Of course. Of course I will.”

Bernie slides the ring onto Serena’s finger, pulls her close and kisses her as the flames cast dancing shadows in the darkening room.


End file.
